Read Abroad for Free Online Page B

of you.”
    “That’s right,” the girl with the amber eyes said. “We killed the last girl who held us up.”
    She stood and extended her hand.
    “I’m Luka, that’s Anna. Don’t remember seeing you back at school, but glad to know you.”
    “Thank you.” We settled into our chairs. Now that I saw her up close, I realized that I had, in fact, seen Luka on campus, usually embedded in some exclusive, raucous group or another.
    Anna’s face, though, was new to me. She turned toward me now and smiled warmly. “I’m so glad you’re here. We need a fresh opinion on Dottori. Luka says once a Fascist, always a Fascist, but I say just look at his work. After Mussolini’s fall, the paintings are really very socially conscious.”
    Luka shrugged. “Murderers don’t change their minds. Once you witness a killing, you can’t go back.”
    “Jenny?”
    “ I think the things are hideous. Fascist, Statist, Socialist, whatever. The paintings give me a headache.”
    “I love you, Jenny,” Luka said. “But I’d wager you’re just saying that because you don’t have an opinion.” She turned my way and winked. “Fact is, doesn’t matter who the artist is. It’s the work. I don’t care how many Jews his party murdered. I still bloody love the paintings.”
    “ Please stop saying things about Jewish people,” Anna said. “I’ll have to leave.”
    “Anna had a Jewish boyfriend once,” Jenny explained. “Old guy, of course. What, fifty or something, Annie? She says he was very funny. Damned good in bed, too.”
    Anna blushed. “I never told you that.”
    Jenny rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows it. They try harder. Taz, what do you think?”
    “I’m Jewish,” I said quickly, trying to stay calm. “Well, half. But my mother is—”
    “What the hell. We don’t care about that,” Luka said. “So, seriously. What do you think of Dottori?”
    “I’m so sorry to say, I haven’t—”
    “Don’t let her make you uncomfortable,” Anna said. “We only know him because we happened to go to a party at the contemporary museum last night.”
    “ I bloody knew,” Luka said. “And I’ll be damned if I don’t leave this town with one of his pieces.”
    “He’s a local twentieth-century painter,” Anna said to me. “You should have a look.”
    “Hell of a lot better than all of those damned pietàs. Virgin Mary, my ass. What a whore she was!”
    “Really, Luka. Must you work so hard to shock?” Jenny said.
    Luka sat back and drained her glass rather forcefully, as if making a point.
    As they chattered on about the paintings, I sat there, my wineglass frozen in place, my face arranged in what I hoped was a knowing expression. It’s not that they were ignoring me, exactly. In fact, they were rather pointedly inclusive, stopping from time to time to smile at me or shake their heads conspiratorially, yet they made no genuine effort to catch me up. It was as if I was expected to participate in this esoteric conversation because they had unanimously decided I was one of them already.
    I felt a hand on my elbow. “I’m so glad you finally came out with us,” Anna said to me softly. “We’ve been asking for you for quite a while.”
    What could she possibly mean, I wondered, thinking of the nights I’d spent dodging Marcy.
    “Well,” Jenny said. “We had to be certain.”
    “Please let the record stand that I was for you all along,” Luka said. “These other girls were awful.”
    “I—”
    “Luka, Luka,” Anna pleaded.
    “You’re getting ahead of us as usual.” Jenny made a drinking motion with her hands. “Do shut up.”
    “I can tell her,” Luka said. “She’ll laugh. Okay, so there was Libby, who shagged a German in the back of Club Lazar, right in front of us. Paula, dull as toast. And then that bulimic—”
    “It’s not like we’re against handicaps,” Jenny said. “We just can’t have anyone slowing us down to throw up after every bloody meal.”
    “You all are so